Day # 55 Another Word for Freedom

Hitch-hiking!
This from Jo re: © 2007 The Chronicle-Herald - Halifax. All rights reserved.

She's a streetwise lady; 86-year-old Tina Muller relies on her thumb to get around, and local drivers love her for it.
Muller is a frail-looking, 86-year-old woman, often burdened with 2, 3, or 4 bags of groceries, she stands at the edge of the road, looking for all the world like a strong gust of wind could send her flying...so it doesn't take long to catch a ride.
Drivers slow down, aghast to see what looks suspiciously like their grandmother hitchhiking.
Doors open, a lift is offered and Muller settles into a car, often hearing from the driver comments such as, "Are you crazy?" or "Are you for real?"
Once the Burford, Ont., hitchhiker gets out of the car, though, it turns out she's done the favour.
She leaves drivers feeling like a little blessing has passed through their car.
Her good nature, ready laugh and simple philosophy of life is evident, even within the space of a 10-minute ride.
"Many people give me a ride and end up saying, 'I'm so grateful I picked you up. You made my day!'" says Muller. "I guess I make them laugh."
Once the proud owner of a real muscle car, Muller preaches some basic reasoning.
"I used to have a 396 Chevelle Supersport, but did I appreciate it when I had a car? No, but now I would. You have to lose things before you appreciate them.
"Two friends of mine are on dialysis twice a week for three hours, but how often do we appreciate the job our kidneys are doing? I say it's a good thing we can't see any further than our nose is long because we might be petrified if we saw what's coming."
Fiercely independent, Muller has been hitting the roads for the past 24 years after separating from her husband. Buses to Burford, about eight kilometres west of Brantford in central southwestern Ontario, have always been sporadic and money is too tight to be taking cabs very often.
She hated to ask people for rides and so she began hitchhiking.
It frustrates her family, who have tried to prevent the senior from using her version of public transportation, and it makes drivers feel protective toward her.
One guy gave her a lift to Brantford and insisted she take the $20 bill he forced into her hand so she could take a taxi home.
Usually it's the other way around.
Muller always has a toonie at hand and presses it on her newfound friends at the end of a ride.
"Some take it and some won't. I always say, 'Get yourself a coffee, put it in the gas tank or buy a (lottery) ticket and maybe it will be a winner.'"
Muller rides buses or gets lifts from her two sons and brother, but when she needs to go somewhere and there's no ride, she doesn't like to ask for help.
"People will think that's strange considering I stand on the road begging for a ride, but if I ask someone to take me to the pharmacy, they have to say yes or no. If I put my thumb out, they can stop or not.
"This is my freedom."
While most of us have grown up amid all sorts of cautions involving hitchhiking, Muller isn't afraid to cast her fate to the wind and see who will stop for her each day. She's not afraid to turn down a ride if her warning bell goes off.
Muller says she only learned recently that hitching rides is illegal in Ontario. That knowledge is not likely to stop her, although she would probably urge young people to avoid following her path.
As if an 86-year-old hitchhiker isn't enough to take in, many of Muller's drivers are rocked by the news that she has to be home in time to get ready for work at 4 p.m. The senior has gone back to janitorial work to help her daughter-in-law who had a heart attack. She cleans offices at factories for 30 hours a week.
Neighbour Roger Davis of Davis Fuels has been watching Muller's antics for years.
"She runs her own show. I pick her up sometimes and she's always got a good joke for you and something interesting to say. She's a streetwise lady."
Some people look at the frequency of Muller's trips to Brantford and wonder why she doesn't move to the city, but she likes her rural home.
When people who have driven Muller see her on the roadside, they often turn around to get her. Sometimes they update her on their lives.
"It's been two years since I've seen you," one man told her recently. "We had another baby."
Muller says sometimes the first car will stop and other times it could take as many as 20 vehicles before she gets a ride. But she's sure a ride will come.
"Somebody's taking care of me, I always say. And I'm always so grateful for the ride."